


Let's play pretend

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Minor Angst, Pretend Relationship, love declaration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are we doing this again,” John whispered as he put the four cups of tea on their tray, glancing at Sherlock next to him.</p>
<p>“Because Mrs. Hudson asked us to and we owe her that much,” Sherlock answered absently, looking down at his phone, not helping John at all.</p>
<p>“I get that she considers you like family,” John continued, “but why did she have to tell her entire book group that you were happily engaged? To me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's play pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://letthechoirsing.tumblr.com/)

“Why are we doing this again,” John whispered as he put the four cups of tea on their tray, glancing at Sherlock next to him.

“Because Mrs. Hudson asked us to and we owe her that much,” Sherlock answered absently, looking down at his phone, not helping John at all.

“I get that she considers you like family,” John continued, “but why did she have to tell her entire book group that you were happily engaged? To me?”

Sherlock sighed and John fought the urge to take his phone away, “I can’t read minds, John. Ask her.”

John rolled his eyes, checking that he had thought of everything before picking up the tray, “Well, you better help me out there!”

“Help you?” Sherlock frowned, finally putting his phone away and looking at John.

“We’re happily engaged, remember?” John smiled before walking out of the kitchen, getting ready for what promised to be an interesting afternoon.

Mrs. Hudson and her friend were sitting on the sofa chatting, and John cursed himself for not having gone to the shop as planned. At least he would have avoided this stupid charade and Sherlock could have dealt with this mess by himself.

“John, thank you dear,” Mrs. Hudson smiled, “Where is Sherlock?”

“I’m sure he’s coming,” John replied, glancing towards the kitchen but Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

“You boys make such a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jensen smiled, taking her cup and sipping at her tea without looking away from John.

“Thank you,” he answered, breathing out slowly and taking his own cup.

_Where the fuck was Sherlock?_

“How long have you been together?” She continued, apparently greedy for some details. 

“Hmm-”

“One year,” Sherlock declared, finally joining them and perching on John’s armchair, leaning against John’s shoulder. 

“Oh lovely! I want to hear all about it!”

“It was a friend that introduced us, actually,” Sherlock began and John settled back into his chair more comfortably. 

He smiled, glad that Sherlock seemed to have prepared their backstory to the very last detail. He listened as Sherlock began to explain everything, frowning as he realised Sherlock was actually telling her the real circumstances of their meeting, their first case together and their diner after that.

“Love at first sight, then?” Mrs. Jensen asked, winking at them but John looked down, concentrating on not blushing. 

“In a way, yes,” Sherlock answered, his hands sliding up and down John’s arm.

John tried to focus, to follow Sherlock’s story to see when it would deviate from reality, but Sherlock’s body was warm against his and John seemed to be unable to concentrate on anything else. He could feel goosebumps rising on his arm where Sherlock’s fingers felt almost too soft. 

“I immediately knew these two would get along just fine,” Mrs. Hudson added, “Immediately!”

John couldn’t help but smile, remembering Mrs. Hudson’s words the first time he visited the flat. John had jumped at the chance to dismiss her, affirming he’d take the second bedroom quickly. He had been so confused at that time, barely hours after meeting Sherlock and already unable to stop himself from imagining all the ways this cohabitation could go. 

_Well, look where it got you in the end,_ John thought, another shiver running through him as Sherlock laced their fingers together. John wasn’t sure how many times he had thought about taking Sherlock’s hand, or intertwining their fingers as they walked back to Baker Street after a long case or a night out. It had always felt so impossible, Sherlock standing right there and being so far away at the same time. 

John closed his eyes for a second, hating that the only reason Sherlock was holding his hand right now was because of this stupid situation.

“John, are you alright?” Mrs. Hudson asked, forcing him to focus on the conversation again.

“Yes,” he hurried to reply, “Sorry, I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Jensen laughed, “We were young once, we know how the nights can be exhausting.”

“Margaret, please,” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, but she was soon laughing too.

John forced himself to smile, his entire body suddenly tensing. He didn’t want to think about what they were both implying. He spent too much time fantasizing about it already, and had been trying to accept the simple fact that he would never know how it felt to fall asleep snuggled against Sherlock, to kiss him goodnight, to wake up in his arms and spend lazy mornings in bed. 

John snapped back to reality when he felt Sherlock’s thumb caress his hand slowly, “Alright,” Sherlock mouthed and John nodded, looking away before his face could say too much.

“So, when did you two got together?” Mrs. Jensen continued, leaning forward. 

“John kissed me for the first time about a year ago,” Sherlock explained, “He had just moved back in 221B.”

“Moved back?” Mrs. Jensen frowned and John noticed Mrs. Hudson looking sadly at her.

“You must have hear about it, dear,” she said, “Sherlock faked his death for two years, so John had moved out and gotten on with his life.”

Mrs. Jensen looked back at them, eyes filled with horror, “But that would mean that you first met years ago!”

“6 years ago to be exact,” Sherlock replied.

“And all this time-,” she began before stopping, her eyes fixed on John. “So many years wasted,” she finished, shaking her head.

John closed his eyes again, the words echoing in his head. He needed to get out. He couldn't sit there and listen to this any longer. But just as he was about to stand up, he felt Sherlock let go of his hand only to put it on his thigh, looking down as he murmured, “Yes, many years indeed.” 

“It must have been so devastating for you, John, believing Sherlock was dead.”

John swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat, “Yes, it was.”

“Maybe it was a good thing you two weren’t together back then,” she declared and John tensed again, the urge to walk out of the flat becoming harder and harder to fight. “It would have made it so much worse”

“It was hard enough as it was,” John snapped.

“Yes,” she smiled sadly, “sorry.”

Silence fell upon them, the hand on John’s nape playing with his hair now. He wanted to lean back into it, to make their guests vanish and hold Sherlock against him. He needed to feel him against him, alive and his.

“But now it is ancient history,” Mrs. Hudson suddenly declared, “and soon you two will be married!”

“Yes! When is the wedding?”

John forced himself to smile again, “Two months.”

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful,” Mrs. Jensen said, “Have you thought about your vows yet?”

John was on his feet before she could finish, “I’m sorry but we have to leave soon, we have an appointment at the Yard.”

“Oh, sorry, dear!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, “Margaret, why don’t you come back downstairs, we can finish this tea in my apartment.”

“Yes, of course.”

John smiled at her, hand shaking slightly as he waited for the both of them to grab their coats and purses. Sherlock was still sitting and John could feel his stare boring into him, but he didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.

“Thank you for the tea,” Mrs. Hudson said as John accompanied them to the stairs, “It was lovely.” She squeezed John’s hand, thanking him silently for agreeing to help her.

“It was our pleasure.”

Mrs. Jensen came to him, “You are a very lucky man, John. Sherlock loves you deeply, that much is obvious.”

John nodded, not trusting his own voice at the moment and waved goodbye as they headed back to 221A. He waited until he could hear Mrs. Hudson’s front door closing before returning to the flat. 

“I’m going out,” he said as he put on his coat, “don’t wait up.”

He didn’t wait for Sherlock to answer, or even look back at him, and left without another word.

~~

It was already dark outside when John paid the barman despite having not touched his drink. He had spent months trying to stop drinking, and he wasn’t going to ruin everything because Sherlock had forced him to play the happy couple for an hour. He shivered as he began to walk back to 221B, wondering if Sherlock was waiting for him there or if he had gone out too. John knew he shouldn’t have left like that. Sherlock got worried too quickly, and none of this was his fault. It was John who couldn’t keep his feelings under control.

During the first few weeks after he’d moved back, John had thought about asking Sherlock if there was any chance they could become more, become what he’d been dreaming about for years. With Mary out of the picture and the ghost of Moriarty definitely gone, it had seemed like the right time to take his chance. But he never managed to get the words out, the fear of losing what he already had making him sick with worry, and now he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have. 

_I need to sleep and forget about today entirely._

The lights were on when John arrived at Baker Street and he took his time climbing up the stairs, preparing himself for whatever Sherlock was doing. The flat was quiet and John was surprised to find their sitting room empty. Sherlock’s violin was on the sofa which meant he had played it while he was gone. John dropped his coat next to it, glancing at the kitchen but finding that room empty too. He knocked at Sherlock’s door but no one answered so John went to get ready for bed, thinking it was for the best if Sherlock was already asleep. Maybe they wouldn’t mention this little game tomorrow and go on as if nothing happened.

_It’s for the best, really._

John turned off all the lights, going up to his room and stopped dead in the doorway. Sherlock was indeed asleep, but in his bed, laying under the covers and facing John’s side of the bed. What the hell was he doing here? John thought about going back downstairs and sleeping on the sofa, not even considering taking Sherlock’s bed. No, he wasn’t going to give Sherlock that pleasure. It was his bed and he was going to sleep in it. 

“Sherlock?” He called, making sure his friend was asleep. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock didn’t stir and John turned off the light. He only needed to fall asleep quickly and Sherlock would probably be gone before he woke up. It wasn’t the first time he’d found Sherlock in his bed. It had happened a couple of times before Sherlock’s death, usually after long and difficult cases, but they’d never talked about it afterwards, no matter what position they had woken in. There was no reason today would be any different. 

Exhaling deeply, John settled under the covers and closed his eyes. 

“John?”

John blinked awake.

“John?”

In less than a second, John registered the exact position he was in. His nose was buried in Sherlock’s curls, his chest pressed against Sherlock’s back and his hand resting against his chest. He tensed, beginning to roll to his back again but Sherlock stopped him, holding on tightly to the arm across his chest.

“No, stay,” he whispered and John exhaled slowly.

“What are y-”

“Can I ask you something?” Sherlock cut in, leaning back against John.

John remained silent for a long moment. He could feel Sherlock’s heartbeat under his hand, the hair on his legs where they were tangled with his own and smelt the familiar scent of his shampoo. All of it was making it hard to breathe properly

“Yes?” He finally whispered, trying to control his own quickening heartbeat.

“What is it about me?”

“About you?” John frowned.

“Yes, what is it about me that repulses you?”

For a second, John was certain he had misheard what Sherlock just said, “What?”

“Earlier today, when Mrs. Jensen implied that we were spending our nights having sex, you tensed and refused to look at me afterwards.” Sherlock murmured, still not letting go of John’s arm, “What is it about me that repulses you?” 

“Sherlock,” he began, a knot forming in his chest, “You can’t seriously think that?”

“All the facts are there, John,” Sherlock replied, his voice just above a whisper, “Meeting Major Sholto made it clear that you are, or at least, have been, attracted to men before. You slept with some and enjoyed it enough to commit to a serious relationship with James. So it’s not the idea of sleeping with a man that repulses you, but the idea of sleeping with me.”

John felt sick, “Sherlock, look at me.”

“No, please,” he sighed, sounding suddenly tired, “just tell me and we can forget about it.”

John closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before saying, “You do not repulse me, Sherlock. God, you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

He felt Sherlock freeze under his arm and John pressed their bodies together, brushing his nose against Sherlock’s nape, “I’m so sorry I made you think like this. Sherlock, the only reason I got tense before is because I’ve thought about sleeping with you so many times, I was afraid you would have been able to deduce it right then, with your hand in mine, your finger measuring my heartbeat.”

Sherlock turned in his arms and John pulled back, Sherlock’s eyes scanning his for long seconds, “I wasn’t measuring your heartbeat,” he finally said and John smiled.

“You could have."

John still had one arm around his waist and he slid his hand down until he could take Sherlock’s, lacing their fingers again but this time the gesture was much more meaningful. 

“John, what you are saying is-”

“What I’m saying, Sherlock,” John cut in, shifting closer, “is that I hate myself right now for ever making you believe I couldn’t be attracted to you. What I’m saying is that I’ve been wanting to tell you all this many times before. What I’m saying is that I’ve dreamed about you in my bed so many times that I’m still not sure this is really happening.”

He stopped, pressing their joined hands against his chest and smiling at Sherlock, “What I’m saying is that I’m in love with you, Sherlock Holmes, and I have been for a very long time.”

Sherlock closed his eyes, his breath tickling John’s face, and John waited, a knot in his stomach and his heartbeat dancing on his lips. 

“John,” Sherlock whispered, looking back at him and John brushed their noses together, “please."

John felt Sherlock’s free hand sliding up his arm and shoulder before settling against his nape, applying just enough pressure to seal their lips. A loud moan echoed in the room and John couldn’t tell who made it, he was too busy pressing his body against Sherlock’s, their mouths locked together in the most tender kiss he’d ever experienced. Sherlock’s lips were soft under his, barely open, just enough for John to capture the lower one between his own, before letting go.

“Again,” Sherlock asked, chasing John’s mouth for another kiss.

John smiled, this time letting his tongue trace Sherlock’s lips before sliding it inside his mouth. Another moan echoed in the room, and this time John was pretty sure it was him. Sherlock’s hand trailed up his head, fingers sliding through John’s hair as he arched against John, deepening the kiss. It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant, and John never felt more powerful.

Rolling Sherlock onto his back, John settled on top of him, letting go of his hand only to slide it underneath his shirt. Sherlock’s skin was warm, incredibly warm and John craved more. 

“Sherlock, are you-”

Sherlock stopped him, hands tugging at John’s shirt, “Yes.”

John smiled, kissing him one more time before beginning to undress them both. Sherlock’s hands were back on him as soon as John removed his shirt and he let him explore his chest, staring down at him while Sherlock’s fingers brushed his scar, nipples and stomach, before stopping at the waistband of his pants. He looked up at John, tongue darting out to lick his lips and John leant down to kiss him again.

He spread Sherlock’s legs apart, locking their groins together and felt Sherlock’s arch under him when their erections brushed. 

“John,” Sherlock panted, one hand sliding under John’s pants to rest on his arse.

John kissed down Sherlock’s jaw and neck, rocking slowly against him. He had no idea how far Sherlock had gone before, and the last thing he wanted was to rush him. They had time now.

“I want to watch you,” John whispered, “I want to feel you against me.”

“Yes,” Sherlock locked one leg around John’s thigh, canting his hips higher.

“You’re so beautiful, so beautiful.”

Sherlock moaned, his free hand sliding up and down John’s back. He was thrusting in time with John’s movements now, their erections coming together with each thrust. It’d been years since John had last come in his pants, years since he last made love so softly, and it was perfect. He could feel himself grow harder with each thrust, listening to Sherlock’s gasps and feeling him tense in his arms, their movements less and less controlled.

“John, _John_.”

Sherlock stilled, eyes wide open, head thrown back as he came, and John rocked once, twice against him before coming too, moaning Sherlock’s name. He collapsed on the bed, Sherlock snuggling against him immediately, and John brought their lips together again.

“I love you,” Sherlock murmured, sliding his arms across John’s chest.

John brushed their lips together, smiling, “We should thank Mrs. Hudson.”

Sherlock laughed, settling more comfortably against John’s chest, “I’m sure it was her plan all along.”

“Really? I thought you couldn’t read minds,” John mocked.

“It wasn’t a difficult deduction, she’s been trying to set us up for years.”

John laughed, “Yes, she sure tried.”

Sherlock shifted next to him and John murmured, “Let’s take these clothes off before we fall asleep.”

“Hmm.”

“Sherlock, come on.”

John got rid of his pants and Sherlock’s pajamas pants quickly, Sherlock humming with contentment as he settled back against him. John closed his eyes, letting sleep find him again. Tomorrow, he would wake up to Sherlock’s naked body against his, and that was all he had ever wished for.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are very appreciated !


End file.
